Chloe's Sweet Pink Pt. 03

This is part 3 of a series which continues Chloe's timeline from "Riding With Dirty Girls," "Chloe Rides Again," and "Chloe's Return." You can probably get something out of the sex scenes in isolation, but for background, you ideally need to have read the other series' first.

This is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. It is not meant to be big on realism. It's a fantasy. The culture around world-class women's cycling probably isn't a hotbed of lesbian lust, but wouldn't it be fun if it were?

All characters are fictitious, and any that are involved in sexual activities are over 18.

***

Chloe's Sweet Pink Pt. 03

Yawn... I was lying on the bed in the team hotel, looking at my phone and all the excited online gabble about the stage, but I was struggling to stay awake. I contemplated having a snooze, but dinner time was only 40 minutes away, and I didn't want to miss it. I know, I could have set an alarm, but 40 minutes was enough time to fall into a really deep sleep, and then I'd struggle to wake up and I'd feel shit.

Where was Helen? Her stimulating presence would keep me awake, but she wasn't here. She was no doubt with Marlen, somewhere. The two of them were becoming inseparable. Even on the bikes, they were rarely apart. During long easy stretches they'd spend kilometre after kilometre together, just ticking along, chatting or in companionable silence. It was easy to see the bond that was forming between them. Actually, I think it had been there for years and they were now just re-embracing it.

Why was I so tired? Well, I knew really. I was over-reaching. We were 4 stages in -- 4 stages that were tiring enough on their own -- and I'd already had sex with Helen, with Helen and Marlen together, and with Debbie -- twice. No wonder I was shagged out.

I can't help it though. I've always been a hedonist. I just love sex, and sex with these women is just too tempting.

What about Debbie though? She was voracious, and she seemed to be particularly focussed on me. I know she'd had some fun with Trude, and maybe others, but not on this Giro, as far as I knew. All her lustful attention was reserved for me.

It was very flattering, and of course I found her almost irresistible. Her ardour alone was enough to light my burners -- I love an ardent woman -- but then there was also her magic hands, and those addictive tits. I was helpless.

The tiredness was a worry though. The weekend was looming, with two big summit showdowns to decide the destination of that final pink jersey. I really, really wanted that jersey, but I wouldn't get it if I was knackered. I guess I had a hard choice to make, between pink, and... er, pink.

I decided to call Molly. I was so lucky to have Molly. Not many athletes have the kind of relationship with their coach that would allow them to ask for advice about something like this, but I do.

I hadn't spoken with her so far this Giro. She'd sent me messages on WhatsApp, congratulating me, or telling me not to panic, but we hadn't actually spoken. It was great to hear her voice, so calm and unflappable. What a rock she is.

'Hi Chloe, well ridden today, I didn't expect you to take back 20 seconds so easily.'

'It wasn't easy, Mol,' I protested.

'Well, you know what I mean.'

'Yeh, I do. I expected the others to put up more of a fight, to be honest. I think they were suffering with the heat.'

'Yep, the heat can be a swine. How are you feeling now?'

'Er, tired. I need some advice, actually.'

'OK, go on.'

'Well, I've handled the stages OK, and my recovery has been good each night, but I think I'm tired because of... other things.'

I could almost see her wry smile. 'I'd give you advice about eating well, but you don't need that, or getting enough sleep, but you don't need that, so we're talking about sex, aren't we?'

'You know me so well, Molly.'

She chuckled. 'So, I'm right then...'

'Yes. You know I can't resist... and I'm sharing with Helen... and Helen is renewing her romance with Marlen... and we have a soigneur called Debbie, who is gay, and as horny as hell...

'Hmm, and if I know you, Chloe, it will be full-on 110% sex, won't it?'

'Yes, always.'

'It might surprise you to know that I used to have a lot of sex when I was at the peak of my racing, and it never did me any harm, so I'm not going to tell you to stop. BUT, and it's a big but... no not that kind of big butt... you can overdo it.'

'Mm, that's my problem, I think. Debbie is mad for it, and I can't resist.'

'I think denying yourself, and lying awake with frustration, is counter-productive, but you need to keep it under control. Maybe even keep it to one orgasm. I know you're multi-orgasmic, and a very greedy girl, but you should save that for when you are at home with Licia... or when you come here, of course...'

'Oo-er, Molly, do stop.' That was surprisingly cheeky for Molly. I liked it.

'Anyway, your soigneur should understand. She doesn't want you to lose the Giro, does she? Talk to her about it.'

'Good idea, Mol. I will.'

'I have news for you. Fanny, Mari, and I are all coming over for the weekend. We'll see you after Saturday's stage, and we'll be on the Zoncolan on Sunday.'

'YAAY! Fantastic.'

I was so stoked to hear they'd be there. That gave me such a lift.

We signed off with excited chatter about travel arrangements etc, and strict orders to get an early night, and I headed down to dinner, very much wide awake now, and ravenously hungry.

Dinner was great, with toasts to the team's success, though Zara and Tera were a little rueful about their inability to keep me under control; 'If I'm La Petarda, Chloe, you must be La Bomba,' said Zara with a surprisingly generous grin.

'Ha! But you're still the one in pink...' I reminded her.

After I'd finished "eating well," I buttonholed Debbie and took her into the lounge for a chat. We got a couple of drinks, then found seats in a quiet corner.

I must've looked serious, because as soon as we sat down she said, 'This is the "cool it" chat, isn't it?'

'The 'cool it" chat?' I said, acting bemused, but knowing exactly what she meant.

'Yeh, the one where you tell me to back off, cool it, calm my tits...'

I chuckled, 'Well they'll take some calming, I bet.'

'You're not wrong, but that's what this is about, isn't it?'

'Well KIND of. You know I could fuck you twice daily, don't you...?'

'Only twice?' she teased.

'At least... but seriously...'

'I know, Chloe. I understand. You are supposed to be racing a grand tour, and I'm draining the spunk out of you.'

'Eww,' I chuckled. 'Not exactly spunk, but yes. I'm tired.'

'Yeah, sorry. I just get so horny around you though.' She gave me an adorably coquettish look.

'I'm flattered, but the feeling is mutual, that's for sure.' I eyed those beautiful bustling boobs of hers.

'I know I've been a little carried away. A quick fuck is one thing, but two on the bounce? That's virtually a fokken relationship!'

'They weren't quick, either,' I smirked. 'HOW many orgasms??'

'No idea.' She shook her head, eyes wide. 'Good ones, too.'

'So, are you always this horny, Debs?'

'NO! That's what's so surprising. It's only since I've had this job. I've been bi for a long time, and I've always been attracted to both sexes, but since I've been on this team, I find I'm just lusting after the girls. Even the straight ones. I mean, look at Zara, she's fokken smoking hot, don't you think?'

'I do, but I have plenty of gay girlfriends so I try not to lust after straight women. I'm glad it's not just me you have the hots for, though.'

'You're pretty special, Chloe, but no, I'm turned on by lots of the girls. It's weird; suddenly, I'm not even slightly interested in the men. Adam made a move on me the first week I joined, but I was like "ewww, no thanks." I really think I've crossed the floor.'

I nodded, knowingly. 'I was thinking that.'

'Actually, I'm wondering how long I can keep this job. It takes too much willpower.'

'Oh, don't leave us, Debbie. That would be a real shame.'

She smiled at the implied compliment. 'D'you know what else is weird? Besides the sex, I've been masturbating more too. I never knew I could get so much pleasure on my own.'

'Hmm, funny that. Licia and I have a friend in Ireland who has just recently come out, and she said basically the same thing... The pleasure of pussy, eh?'

'Damn right...'

'Anyway, I'm not brushing you off, Debs, I just think I need to be careful. Especially before this weekend.'

'Yeh, it's fine Chloe. Maybe I could make a move on Zara...' She grinned.

'That would be bold and brave, but please do. It would be great if you could shag her out before Saturday...'

We chatted on for a while about the other girls on tour, how turnable Zara was (we both remembered the kiss at Gijón) and the pleasure of pussy. It was a very horny conversation, and I could easily have succumbed again -- oh my God, it was only a couple of hours since last time we fucked -- but I resisted.

'Anyway, it's time I went up and stacked some ZZs I think. See you at breakfast. She wiggled fingers at me and I headed for bed.

I let myself into the room. Hmm, still no sign of Helen. I sat on the bed and took my shoes off, and my fatigue came flooding back. I really needed this early night.

***

Stage 5. Mirano -- Monselice.

120km -- Negligible climbing.

Another pan-flat stage, the kind I usually grumble about, but this time I welcomed it, because it gave me more time to recover my freshness.

My ideal scenario was that a break would form, composed of riders who were miles behind on GC, and the peloton would have a day off and let them go. Then, I could have an easy day, sitting in the bunch, drafting, and turning the pedals with little effort. I'd keep my fingers crossed.

I woke that morning to the sound of Helen's faint snoring. She had returned from wherever she'd been, without waking me, and was sound asleep. I tiptoed into the bathroom, peed, showered, then emerged to see her just waking up. She had her back to me, and she turned her head to look at me, her hair strewn wildly across her face.

I don't know how Helen manages to look so lovely in any situation; ruffled dawn face, straight out of the shower with wet hair, frazzled, red faced and sweaty after a hard race, laughing at a joke, gazing fondly at Marlen, or looking down at me as she queened the living daylights out of me. Utterly bewitching every time. Ah, wondrous Helen.

'Morning lovely,' I greeted her.

She yawned -- I forgot that one, she even looks gorgeous yawning. 'Morning Chloe. Is it late?'

'No, quarter to eight. Plenty of time.' She stretched, one of those exquisite, sustained stretches that tenses every muscle in your body, then flopped, limp, and broke into a bright smile that it up the room.

'Thank goodness it's an easy stage today. I'm pretty stiff.'

'I was just thinking that.' I responded. 'Yesterday was a grueller, eh?'

I lay on the bed with just a towel round me, looking at my phone and listening to Helen, humming in the shower. I smiled to myself. She sounded very happy, and that made me happy.

We went down to breakfast and I continued with my mission of eating well, having a double helping of just about everything (what could I do? My coach told me to) and I couldn't help noticing that Debbie was sat next to Zara... Hmm.

The bus transfer to the start was, once again, quite short. Just over an hour to Mirano, which is very close to Venice. After the stage, another bus ride would take us northwest again to our next team hotel in Vicenza.

This was a very compact "tour" with quite a lot of overlap between stages, and no transfer longer than about an hour. It certainly made it more relaxed, but I'd like to see more stages really, to make it more worthy of the title "Grand Tour."

Anyway, we got on the bus to go to Mirano, and Debbie informed us that it was the birthplace of Federica Pellegrini, who was apparently an Olympic swimmer. Zara was nodding knowingly, but there were a lot of blank looks from others.

'Is she famous?' I asked.

'Oh yeah. Big name in the swimming world.'

'If course, you were a swimmer, weren't you?'

'Yep. I raced against her a few times, but I was never in her class. She's a multiple gold medal winner; Olympics, World Champs, world record holder over 400m...'

I fell to musing... the Olympics were one year away, and I realised I would probably be selected for the GB team. I'd never really thought about the Olympics, but I knew if I was asked, of course I'd go. But would I do the road race, or the time-trial? Or both?

We arrived in Mirano, an attractive place and typically Italian, and began the usual pre-race rigmarole. All the GC contenders, including me, were very relaxed because we didn't expect to be doing battle today, but I spotted sprinters like Marieke, Mae, and Jude, and breakaway specialists like Franka, Inga, and Letizia, all looking focussed. Would it be a day for the break, or the sprinters?

As is often the case, there was some discussion around jerseys. Obviously, Zara was in pink, but I was now the holder of the white and the blue (mountains) jerseys. I couldn't wear both, so I stayed in white. It matched my bike anyway.

As we rolled out, I positioned myself near the front, with the rest of my team, and in a good position to observe all the anticipated attacks. Sure enough, as soon as the flag fell, people started to try to jump clear. Anyone remotely dangerous was chased down immediately, but eventually a group of 10 got away, none of them within 30 minutes of the overall lead.

Just as I'd hoped, the peloton continued to ride at a relaxed tempo, and I settled into what was going to be a pleasant day out on the plains of Veneto. And it was pleasant; easy flat roads, little wind, 28 degrees, and a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. I was transported.

The break's gap was allowed to grow to 5, 10, 15 minutes, before we stepped up the pace, just enough to hold them. The initial group of 10 fractured into three as they approached Monselice, and three of them ended up sprinting it out for the podium places. I wasn't surprised to find out later that Franka Stellner had won, with Ellen Murren, and Esther Cruyff taking the other two steps.

When the peloton rolled in, there was a completely pointless sprint for 11th place. I never understand it in this situation. 11th place carried no prize money, no bonus seconds, not even any kudos. I don't know why they bother.

Like Stage 3, this was another damp squib of a stage. Sometimes, there can be nail-biting tension on this kind of stage, if the peloton is in full cry and the break's survival is hanging by a thread, but there was none of that today. It must have made very poor TV. Such a contrast to the previous day's battles. Still, there were better stages to come.

I returned to the bus and just sat on board, waiting to go to Vicenza. Debbie came to sit near me for a chat. 'Well that was a nice restful stage, wasn't it?'

I looked at her impishly. 'Aren't you going to offer me a massage?'

'No, because we both know what that leads to don't we?'

'Not today though. The bus will be on the road in an hour.'

'Well you can if you like. Just a massage.'

'No, it's OK. I was only being mischievous.'

She grinned and shook her head. Then Zara came on board, and Debbie got up from her seat. 'Hi, Zara. Do you need a massage?' What a bloody shameless minx she is.

Zara (innocently or not?) said, 'Oo, yes OK,' and went through to the little cubicle, while Debbie pulled the curtain across with a wink.

I sat and stared into space, with mixed feelings. I imagined Zara's legs, and Debbie's hands spreading her balm on them. Zara's legs are lush and fleshy, with full thighs. They are a lot like Helen's or Licia's, except a gorgeous golden brown colour. She must spend a lot of time sunbathing, or walking around in swimwear, when she's not riding, because she doesn't have the usual cyclist's ghost kit. Her tan goes all the way to her bikini line. They are completely gorge-worthy legs, and Debbie was laying hands on them right now, just behind that curtain. Lucky bitch.

Luckily, Helen and Marlen, with Trude, got on board, so I was distracted by their bright chatter, otherwise, I don't know what I would have done. My tiredness couldn't be that bad. I was still fucking horny.

Soon, Zara emerged, and joined our little chat, and before long, we were on the way to Vicenza, and my raging libido was subsiding.

The hotel was great. Air conditioned, with bar, restaurant, and spacious rooms. Helen asked if I'd mind her sharing with Marlen, and I said of course not. In fact, as it turned out, it came with a bonus, because I ended up with Zara. Oo er. The "bonus" was a double-edged sword though, as I would find out later.

Dinner was fun. It was unusually relaxed, with no particular agenda. Robbie didn't make a speech (thank gawd) and it was all just easy chatter and bonhomie. The day's stage had been a non-event for Canyon-Zipp, and the next day was a kind of transit stage, taking us back up to the Alps for the weekend showdown. It was the lull before the storm.

I managed to keep my sexual imperative suppressed, and just sat in the lounge, socialising with a few of the girls. However, Zara pulled me aside for a chat and surprised me by nipping in the bud any talk about sexual potential with her.

'I don't mind sharing room with you, Chloe, but don' get any ideas about me.' I looked askance at her. 'Debbie already tries to seduce me into sex. Because I kissed you at Gijón, she thinks I am lesbica, but I'm not. Really not. The kiss is only because I am excited to win the stage. Definitely no because I am lesbica. I don' want sex with you, so don' try, OK?'

'OK,' I nodded solemnly.

Apart from thinking "methinks the lady protests too much," she couldn't really be plainer. It was disappointing, but I had to respect it.

I went to find Debbie, to see what had transpired between them, and she shrugged and said, 'Yeh, she was firm about it. As soon as my hands wandered from the straight and narrow, she stopped me. She wasn't freaked or anything. Just firm. "No no no, Debbie, please don't." she said in that sexy accent of hers, and she took hold of my wrists, shaking her head. I used that kiss with you in Gijón as an excuse, like I'd got the wrong idea, but she said no, it meant nothing. God almighty she's sexy though.'

We both glazed over, thinking about her, and nodding, ruefully. 'Good luck, sleeping in the same room with her,' said Debbie.

I went up to bed for another early night. I'd had enough for one day, and I was hoping I'd be asleep by the time Zara came up, which I was, but Zara isn't Helen, and her entrance wasn't stealthy. I woke as soon as she closed the door behind her.

However, I stayed on my side with the covers over me and didn't show that I was awake. I just lay there, and watched her covertly. Voyeuristically.

She turned on a dim bedside light, kicked off her trainers and pulled down her trackies, then she sat on the other bed to take her socks off, lifting her knees high in turn and hooking the socks off with a finger. Oh my God, those legs.

I was watching though slitted eyes that I hoped wouldn't be noticed, with the covers partly over my head. Hiding.

She crossed her arms and whipped off her polo shirt, leaving her in just her undies, which were black and plain. Not lacy or anything, but quite skimpy and very sexy on her. I stirred slightly and murmured -- an involuntary reaction to my growing arousal - and she glanced at me, but I closed my eyes and pretended to still be sleeping.

She disappeared into the en-suite, leaving me disappointed, and I heard her having a pee, then water running in the washbasin. At least she didn't flush.

When she emerged, she was just in knickers, and her black hair was loose and wild. The dim lamp lent a satiny golden glow to her tanned skin, and even her faint ghost bikini top looked gorgeous.

Her breasts were quite like mine; not big, but plump and nicely-formed, with tight little areolae and rude nipples. Suddenly, I saw why Debbie liked mine so much.

Zara's nipples were surprisingly prominent. Either they were the kind that are always like that, or she was chilly, or... Something was turning her on.

She came and sat on her bed again, facing me, and started rubbing some cream into her toes. Maybe a moisturiser, or a healing cream for some sore spot or something. All I knew was that it involved bending her knee out wide and placing her foot on her thigh, then swapping to the opposite foot, all the time giving me a wonderful view of her legs, feet, and the gusset of her knickers, with an occasional glimpse of a few stray pubes. OMG.

As if this wasn't enough, when she'd done both feet, she started again, giving them a second treatment and me a second show of her sexy limbs.

I lay there spellbound, and fizzing with desire, and it took a huge effort to keep my hands away from my pussy as she bent her legs into what were amazingly provocative positions, almost like she were deliberately trying to titillate me.

I almost started to think she knew I was awake, and was doing this on purpose. After all, she could have done it in the bathroom, couldn't she? Or on the other side of the bed? This was hardly the behaviour of a "definitely not" lesbian, but If she was doing it deliberately, why? Why would she tease me like this?

She got up and went back into the bathroom, then returned to stand directly in front of the bedside lamp, leaning over to mess with her phone on the bedside table. The way the dim light from the lamp accentuated the curves and contours of her body was simply exquisite, and I was on a torture rack of ungratified lesbian longing.

She stood there for a minute or two, prodding her phone screen, while the lamplight played unbearably over her wonderful form; the bulge of her mons under those subtly classy knickers, her perfect not-quite-flat stomach, her ribs, and her beautiful boobs and nipples. Oh, mercy.

Then, she pulled the covers of her bed back and clicked off the light. It was over.

The room was plunged into darkness, but my libido was burning as brightly as ever. I turned onto my back and lay there, arms by my sides, wide awake with heart thumping, and images of Zara flashing through my mind. What was it Molly had said about lying awake with frustration being counter-productive?

Sleep was impossible and, eventually, my hands wandered to my pussy. I parted my legs, bending my knees slightly, to lift the covers clear of my sex, pushed my knickers down a little, then spread my lips apart with two fingers of one hand, while dipping a finger of the other in my honey. I started circling my clit, very slowly with that one slippery finger, and a little groan escaped my lips. I paused, but Zara's deep breathing told me she was asleep, so I continued.

That single finger felt divine, and my head lolled back in bliss as I wallowed in the feeling of stimulation. My clit was so hot it kept drying, and the finger had to make regular trips to the honeypot to keep it nice and slippery. Oh, God it felt so fucking good.

This orgasm had been brooding. Caged. Denied. But now, it rose exquisitely from deep in my loins. Tensing muscles throughout my body, snatching my breath away in an almighty release of pent-up tension. Somehow, I stifled the banshee wail that the catharsis demanded, and I lay gasping and juddering until calm gradually returned.

Zara didn't stir, and a feeling of immense, fuzzy, tranquillity engulfed me. I lay limp and appeased. There was a distinct damp patch under my arse, but I didn't care. Finally, I slept.

***

Stage 6. Schio-Bolzano

137km / 1165m. Moderate hills.

I had neglected to set an alarm, and Zara had to wake me from my slumber as she was about to go down to breakfast. She was showered, dressed and ready for action. I wasn't.

I sat up in a panic. 'What time is it?'

'Shh, don't worry. It's 8:15. You have a few minutes.'

'Phew, thanks for waking me. I was spark out.'

I tottered into the bathroom to shower and make myself human again, then joined the others downstairs. It was another fab Italian breakfast, and I enjoyed it to the full. By the time I'd finished and was sipping my third coffee, I actually felt like myself again.

The day's stage didn't look too taxing. It was a bit like Stage 3, with a significant climb at the beginning, followed by an easy run to the finish.

As I said about Stage 3, this kind of profile is perfect for sprinters, and I'm sure the organisers put them in as a sop to the sprint teams.

Some teams are not very GC-focussed, and prefer to concentrate on stage wins - teams like Protime Femmes - but these teams carry a lot of weight in the sport, for some reason, and organisers are keen to attract them. Hence stages like this, almost guaranteed to bring about a bunch sprint finish.

Still, it meant another relatively easy day for me. Another chance to restore my full freshness ready for the big decisive weekend in the Alps.

Once again, a short bus ride (this time only 45 minutes) took us to the little town of Schio, nestled among hills to the north of Vicenza, which had been completely taken over by the Giro's humongous entourage.

I looked around at all the temporary infrastructure that had sprung up, just to host the stage start, and I realised, with wonder, that a huge number of people had been here for days, preparing for this. Building gantries, installing barriers, putting up signs and banners, and taking over the town's main car park.

And now here we were, the gladiators, rolling in like royalty in our air-conditioned, motorised chariots. It made me feel... strange, somehow. Thrilled, but humbled too.

As we were preparing for the start, I noticed that Lucy had come over to talk to Helen, who was busy adjusting the height of the saddle on her bike. I couldn't tell what was being said, but Helen hardly diverted her attention from the task. I could sense that Lucy was trying to get her full attention, but she wasn't having much luck. There was a certain frostiness, which is very unusual to see in Helen.

Eventually, Lucy turned and walked away. I gave her a 'Hi Lucy,' as she walked past me, but she looked vexed. A curt 'Chloe' was all I got back. Hmm, I thought, what's going on there?

As we rolled to the start, I noticed that Marlen and Helen were side by side again, and Lucy on her own, directly in front. I decided to just leave them to it. 'It'll all come out in t'wash,' as they say where I come from.

The centre of Schio was pretty, but the outskirts were not. We rolled out to km 0 through a dreary industrial estate, and I was glad when the flag dropped and we could head for the hills.

The scenery gradually improved as the road rose gently to a place called Longhi, where the real climbing began, and thus far there had been no attacks at all. It was looking like it was going to be another very calm stage.

From Longhi the road climbed to a highpoint at Passo Coro, just over 1000 metres. It was not a tough climb; it meandered upwards through easy hairpins and never got above about a 7% gradient, but two riders surprisingly decided it was a good launch pad for an escape.

They had obviously planned it in advance, and on one of the steeper inclines they launched a two-pronged attack. No one expected it, and in no time at all they were away up the road.

The dynamic duo were the Irish girl, Sian O'Kane, and the American, Carly Wells, both of Trek-ABB. That team were really active -- you may recall they had Maisie in the break on Stage 4 -- and this attack must have been discussed within the team. I could just imagine them, gleefully planning it over dinner the night before, and I bet that Maisie was cheering them on as they made their break.

On a stage like this, I'd always prefer a break to win, rather than the stage ending in a bunch sprint, but in this case I thought their chances of success were minimal.

We descended into the Trentino region (a lovely, swooping descent), and passed through the town of Trento -- where Stage 3 had finished -- at which point, the leaders had 2.30 lead on the peloton.

Now, there were 65 kilometres of wide, smooth, virtually flat road to the finish. Ideal terrain for the peloton to put the hammer down and reel the break in, easy peasy.

But the peloton didn't put the hammer down. None of the GC teams wanted to work; Sian and Carly were no threat on GC, and we were all trying to save energy for the two big stages that were looming.

It was left to the sprinters teams, like Protime Femmes, Insta-Schwalbe, and Verso Lab, but they didn't seem to have the firepower. Gigi spent a lot of time on the front for Protime, without making much impression, while we just sat in and enjoyed their discomfiture.

At Laghetti (30km to go) the gap was still hovering between 2 minutes and 2.30. The dynamic duo were on a charge. When I watched the highlights later, I was impressed by how smooth they looked, how well they worked together, and their positions on the bike. Both of them looked compact and aerodynamic, and they were holding a speed within a kilometre or two of the peloton.

As well as Gigi, Aimée, Ellen, Leonie, and Leona all did multiple strong pulls on the front, but by Laives, with less than 10km to go, the gap was still almost 2 minutes and time was running out. Despite their best efforts, the sprint teams couldn't close the gap quickly enough. What they lacked were a couple of powerhouses like Olga and Pam, or Helen and Marlen.

As we approached Bolzano, it became clear that we weren't going to catch the break. The dynamic duo were still driving on, taking their turns on the front as regular as clockwork, and turning the pedals as smoothly as well-oiled turbines.

Only when they were in sight of the finish did they sit up. Their lead was still a full minute, and as they rolled down the finishing straight they had a conversation...

In their post race interview, where they were like a couple of giddy schoolgirls, Sian revealed how that conversation went. 'Well, I said to Carly, "shall we ride in together?" and she said "yeah but they'll separate us anyway," so I said, "ah, well, you have it then Carly, you don't have a win yet," so she did.'

Carly then interjected. 'It's a victory for both of us though, I dedicate my victory to her,' and they turned and hugged each other, excitedly.

Fantastic.

As the peloton roared into town, the sprint trains were in full flow. There was still a podium place up for grabs, and I was pleased to find after the stage that Mae had taken it by a tyre from Jude. The bunch were 54 seconds behind the dynamic duo.

I was happy with this stage. I had successfully saved myself for the big decisive weekend, I'd loved to see the teamwork, sportsmanship and friendship between Sian and Carly, and I was pleased for Mae, getting another podium. For her, of course, but also because I knew it would make Molly happy.

After I'd pulled on another white jersey, I retired to the team bus, feeling well-satisfied. A few girls were on board, but I became aware that Zara was in with Debbie - having a massage.

Now I found that very strange behaviour. Just one day ago, Debbie had made a pass at her on the massage table, and she had firmly rebuffed it. I would have thought she would avoid having another massage with Debbie, for a while at least. If only to escape any awkwardness. Either she had a very pragmatic attitude to massages (and considered them very important) or Zara was somewhat confused about her sexuality.

Now, even more, I suspected that she HAD known I was awake the previous night, and HAD been giving me a bit of a shameless tease - and that was after telling me she wasn't "lesbica" and didn't want sex with me, and I wasn't to try... Bitch!

I didn't wait until she emerged from Debbie's cubicle, because I would definitely have confronted her. Instead, I made my way straight to the team hotel, which was a comfortable but slightly old-fashioned place, with distasteful stuffed animals in the lobby.

I went straight to look at the room roster because I'd decided that I wasn't spending another night with Zara. I don't like the sort of games she seemed to be playing. Well, not without my consent, anyway.

Helen was of course with Marlen and, as I'd suspected, I was down to share with Zara again. Selina was paired with Gabi, and Tera was with Trude. Hmm.

I went into the lounge/bar and, as luck would have it, there was Trude, talking to Robbie. There was a whisper going around, that Trude was looking for a transfer because she felt underpaid, and I'm sure that's what the conversation was about.

The disparity between salaries on the women's World Tour is nothing short of a scandal. At one end of the scale there are riders like Marieke, reportedly earning around a million Euros a year, and me, on 600k, and at the other end, some girls who have no salary AT ALL and have to survive on sponsorship deals etc. I suspected that Trude was on a similar salary to Licia -- ie about 60 or 70k. Not a BAD salary, but only a tenth of what I get. I can understand why she'd be sore about it.

Anyway, I took a seat and caught Trude's eye, so she knew I wanted to talk to her, and when she'd finished with Robbie, she came to sit with me.

'Hi Trude, how's it going?' I asked, probing, obliquely.

'Oh not so bad. I was just telling Robbie how much he'll have to pay to keep me.' She smiled devilishly. 'He says I'm a valued member of the team, so I said, well pay me my value then. I think we understand each other.'

I grinned. 'I hope so. I wouldn't want to see you leave.'

'Thanks, Chloe. I like being on this team. You're a great bunch.'

I smiled. 'We are, aren't we? I especially like that Chloe Lyons. She's great.'

Trude laughed, showing off her cute dimples, and I decided it was time to get to the matter at hand. 'Listen, I see you are down to share with Tera tonight.' She nodded, and I'm sure a little smile started to appear on her lips. 'How would you feel about sharing with me instead?'

She looked at me candidly. 'I'd like that a lot, Chloe, but we need to ask Tera... and Zara?

'Of course. Leave Zara to me. Let's go and talk to Tera.' We set off to go up to her room, but we met her coming down the stairs.

'Hey, Tera, we were just coming to talk to you.'

She looked from Trude to me and back again. 'Room swaps, is it?'

I laughed. 'We're so obvious.'

'Yeh, well, I don't mind, but who will I end up with?'

'Zara.'

'Yeh, OK.'

It was done. We went back downstairs and amended the roster. Zara was left with no choice. She was sharing with Tera.

She came in a few minutes later and I watched her check the roster. She gave a little pout, but didn't seem too put out. All sorted.

I went outside to call Licia. I wanted to find out how Lisa's date with Candy had gone.

After the usual chatter about the stage etc, I raised the subject. 'Have you spoken to Lisa about her date?'

'Yeh, I was over there earlier. She said it went well. Candy is an absolute riot, apparently. Lisa was nursing a sore head because they got so drunk.'

'Really?'

'Yeh, Lise said they were steaming by the end of the night. They had a great laugh, and talked about girls and sex a lot. Candy has a very colourful history by all accounts. Orgies and everything.'

'Wha... Really?'

'Yeh. When she was at uni, apparently.'

'All-girl orgies?' I asked, warily.

'Oh yeh, she's completely lez. No boys in her cupboard '

'Phew.'

'Lisa told her about us, and made a joke about a foursome, but Candy said foursomes aren't much good. According to her vast experience, three is good, but fours tend to turn into two pairs.'

'Mm... can swap and change a bit though.' I smirked to myself.

'Chloee, you're as bad as her!'

'Oh, like you're not -- little miss sweet and innocent.'

'Actually, I was thinking, with four you could have a mouth on each nipple, and one on your clit at the same time...'

'With five you could have a mouth on your mouth as well.'

'Or a pussy.'

We cackled, and two girls on the adjacent picnic table looked at me weirdly.

I lowered my voice. 'So, anyway, they didn't go home together then?'

'No, they were too pissed for sex. "Better saved til we're sober," Candy said. She's going to the gym today though. She's gonna join, so... I might go over again later. See if I can catch them at it.' She chuckled.

'Aww, surely you wouldn't disturb their first time together...?'

'No, not really. I'll wait until the second time.'

'And you say I'M bad!'

I told her about sharing with Zara, and what had transpired between her and Debbie, and then later in the room. 'I'm more and more convinced she was doing it deliberately.'

'Sly witch, if so. Weird to say "hands off," and then do that though. What the fuck's that about?'

'Yeh, dunno. Weird eh?'

'You're not sharing with her tonight, are you?'

'No, I've done a bit of juggling. I'm with Trude tonight.'

'Oo, Trude... Well, enjoy yourself.'

'I'll try. Wish you could join us.'

'Yeh, wouldn't that be fun?'

'Ciao babe.'

'Ciao bella.'

It was half an hour until dinner, so I stayed outside, enjoying the evening sunshine. Trude appeared in the hotel doorway, so I beckoned her over. 'Hi, Trude. Join me?'

'Yeh, thanks Chloe. I was just coming out for a bit of fresh air. It's a bit hot and stuffy inside. I wish we were still in that air-conditioned place in Vicenza. Phew '

'Yeah. It's cooling a bit now though. I think there's a bit of a weather change coming.'

She sat opposite me and, a little surprisingly, took my hand on the table. She looked at me and said, 'I'm really glad you arranged the room swap tonight, Chloe. I've been wondering for weeks how I could arrange to share with you again.'

'Have you? You only needed to ask me, Trude.'

Yeah, but it's not easy.'

I was suddenly aware that Trude was kind of on the periphery of the free girls, and didn't feel that she could just arrange a get-together with me at a whim. She was a little shy and retiring, with none of the brash go-get-em confidence of someone like, say, Maisie, or even me. She told me that she had only had sex three times in the last three months. Once with me, before Roubaix, and twice with Debbie, during the Vuelta.

This came as a bit of a shock to me. I had so much opportunity, and I just assumed that all the free girls were in the same position. Obviously, that wasn't the case. Blimey, three times in three months? I'd lost count of how many encounters I'd had since Roubaix.

'Hey, you need to stop being so reserved, Trude. You're super-hot. Any of the free girls would bend over backwards to arrange a night with you. You'd just have to make it known you're up for it. There's lots of opportunity out there. Just go for it.'

'Yea, but everyone always seems to be sorted. You're always sharing with Helen or somebody.'

'Yeh, but you can always ask me. I'd hardly turn you down Trude... Three times in three months... You're deprived, girl.'

She smiled a little shyly, and I saw again how lovely she is.

'We'll make amends tonight, Trude. I'm really glad we arranged it.

At the dinner table, we sat together, almost symbolically; for tonight, we were coupled. Helen and Marlen's closeness was rather more than symbolic now. They were almost conjoined. I looked at them and smiled, and Helen smiled back, her eyes twinkling. So happy. I loved to see her like that.

With Zara, I saw a different mood though. She was looking a little sulky. What was the deal with her?

My musing was interrupted by Robbie who, predictably, wanted to speak. It was only to tell us what we already knew. The weekend would decide this Giro. Two stages ending with monster climbs. First up the Passo dello Stelvio -- the highest point on the whole route - and then, on Sunday, up the Monte Zoncolan -- relentlessly steep, and reputedly as tough as the Angliru.

Either or both of these stages could, and probably would, produce big time gaps, so we were told we mustn't write off the likes of Lucy, Suzy, and Elisa, any of whom could produce super climbs on their day. As if I would.

I noticed that Robbie was careful not to make too much of the rivalries within the team, with Zara and me close together and Tera less than a minute behind, but of course we all knew that team loyalties would go out of the window at some point and it would then be every woman for herself.

I wasn't viewing the weekend with any trepidation. I was wary, but not intimidated. I was in a good position, lying 2nd, with only a 4 second gap to Zara, and those behind were going to have serious work to do if they wanted to overtake me. Pink was beckoning.

After dinner, we retired to the lounge for a while. Zara was definitely broody, and she seemed a little cold towards me, but I didn't know whether it was because of apprehension over the coming rivalry on the bike, or whether it was a weird sexual thing. God knows what was going on in her head.

We hadn't been socialising for long before Trude quietly said to me, 'Can we go up, Chloe? I'm suffering.' I smiled. Her suffering was simply her desire getting the better of her, which was flattering for me.

'Of course, let's go.'

We got up 'Early night for us,' I announced. 'Big days coming up,' and we headed upstairs.

The room was hot and stuffy, so I cracked the window open to invite a cool zephyr to creep in and caress us, then I turned back to Trude and we embraced. I remembered the feel of her from that night in Roubaix; small and compliant, she felt very different to Licia's muscular athleticism, and different to Helen's soft womanliness. She seemed almost fragile.

We kissed, a beautiful tender kiss, and I could feel her trembling slightly with her excitement and arousal. The kiss was short but sweet, and then she tucked her head into the crook of my neck and held me tightly. She inhaled, like she was savouring the scent of me, which was MY scent -- I wasn't wearing any perfume -- with perhaps a little soap...

'This is what I love,' she sighed. 'This is what I've been missing. This closeness. This intimacy. This warm smell of another woman.'

I bent my head to kiss her beautiful bronze-coloured hair, and inhaled HER scent. The combined smell of faint shampoo and her scalp. Gorgeously sensuous.

I didn't immediately attempt to move us onto something more sexual. We just stood there, tightly joined in the tactile feelings and scents of our bodies. I loved it. It was the gentlest, most subtle of foreplay. Taking time to appreciate our sensual allure. Something we often skim over. The mutual pleasure we took in each other, just holding each other, feeling each other, smelling each other, was extraordinarily exciting, and I felt a delicious arousal suffusing my being.

Eventually, she released me and took hold of the hem of my tee shirt. Ah, of course, I remembered she liked to undress me. I raised my arms and she pulled the shirt up and off. Revealing my pretty pink bra. The last time we were together, I was braless, but this time she had to reach around me and undo the hooks before she could release my nipples from their confinement.

I remembered that she liked my nipples, and I pushed her gently back to sit on the bed so that she could suck them, and she did so, rapturously, eyes closed as she rolled them round and round with her tongue, making them even more erect, if that were possible.

I used my toes to pull off my trainers, while still keeping position, holding her to me with my arm around the back of her neck. Her nipple adoration was something special; her lust and desire were almost oozing out of her. Palpable.

With my free hand, I undid the drawcord on the boxer-style shorts I was wearing, and started pushing them down and, realising what I was doing, she slipped off the bed onto her knees, kissing her way down as she went.

'Your stomach is gorgeous, Chloe,' she said.

'My stomach?' I giggled. I'd been complimented on my legs, my feet, my pussy, my boobs, and my nipples, but never before on my stomach.

'Yes, look at it.' She stroked her fingers over it, pressing them into the soft layer of flesh. 'It's lean and toned, but soft and feminine. It's perfect. Gorgeous.' She kissed it again.

I'd never really thought about it, but now she had declared her admiration, she had a point. I don't have anything even approaching a belly, but my stomach is not the rippled washboard-like wall of muscle that Molly's is, for instance, so I suppose, in that respect, it is more feminine. It was lovely to have an attractive feature pointed out to me like that. I guess it's one of the reasons Trude is such a compelling lover. She makes me feel gorgeous.

Anyway, I was standing there, with my shorts around my thighs, and she was kissing and nuzzling my tummy and abdomen, and I put one hand on her head and guided her down, while pushing the waistband of my pretty pink knickers down with the other. Her lips reached my pubes and she let out a breathy 'Ooohh, fuuuck.'

God, I needed her mouth on my pussy RIGHT NOW. I was so turned on. I dropped my knickers and shorts tout suite, kicked them away, and pushed forward, pressing her back against the bed, with my hungry sex, and she ate me reverentially as I held her beautiful golden brown head in my hands and thrust against her over and over until my my desire overflowed onto her tongue, and my legs gave out.

I slithered, down into her lap, jolting and jerking in my throes and leaving wet streaks on her clothes as I went. My girl goo was dribbling down her chin, and I licked it up with relish, feeding it back to her on my tongue as we kissed with a raw passion, our desire roaring through us like wildfire.

Gradually we calmed, and I just sat there, kissing her in little affectionate pecks until my legs started to go numb and I struggled to my feet.

I gave her a hand up and we embraced again. 'Ohh, Trude, you are a beautiful lover,' I said, between kissing her cheek again and again, making her giggle. 'Now it's your turn to be adored.'

I started gently undressing her, while she released her hair clip and shook out her ponytail. As I moved down to take her shorts off, I observed her stomach, which was leaner than mine -- more skinny -- but it wasn't THAT different to mine. It was still lovely. Lean and athletic.

Her boobs looked stunning. They aren't big -- certainly nothing like Debbie's -- but her slender, sylph-like body made them seem so, sitting proudly on her oh-so lean ribcage, her nipples jutting rudely and announcing her arousal in a wonderfully graphic way.

I got rid of her shoes, then stood up and kissed her again, briefly. She was very kissable, and she quite obviously loved it. I held her to me with one hand on the small of her back, loving the firm feeling of her back muscles -- she was quite obviously an athlete -- and her arms were around me, feeling my own strong core, I'm sure.

'Lay on the bed,' I whispered, and she sat down, then reclined, with one leg drawn up, and I gazed at her lean, perfect body. Not an ounce of surplus fat on her... apart from those delectable breasts, obviously, and they weren't really surplus...

My heart leapt and my mouth watered at the prospect of devouring her, and it was not just for my own gratification. I revelled in the knowledge that in my desirous devouring I was also going to bring her intoxicating pleasure. Three times in the past three months? She must have been absolutely gagging for a bit of sweet affection, and I was the girl who was going to give it to her.

I crawled up over her, until we were nipple to nipple, and I kissed her -- again. Honestly, I think women's kisses are like fingerprints. Every one distinct and unique; Helen, Molly, Licia, Trude. all subtly different. All completely sublime.

I knew the intimacy was the thing she craved the most, so I tried very hard to make this a warm, intimate kiss, resting my elbows each side of her and holding her face in my hands as we smooched, tenderly.

She moaned into my mouth with her pleasure, and I paused and lifted my head to look at her. Her eyes were closed, but as soon as I broke the kiss, she opened them. Beautiful limpid pools of greenish hazel, I could almost see her desire shining from them.

I kissed her lips again, then planted soft kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, then down the side of her neck to her throat, her collarbones, and on down...

When I reached her breasts, she squirmed slightly and gave an adorable trembly little sigh, and I ran my tongue round and round each of her crinkled areolae in turn, dancing around her nipples, before taking them between my lips for a gentle suckling.

She let out a plaintive 'Oh fuck,' almost like a little sob, and I intensified, my suckling, squirling her nipples with my tongue and moving from nipple to nipple and back again.

This is when I wish I had three mouths; one to pleasure each breast, and another to do the same to her pussy but, alas, I only have the one, so each of those sublime pleasure centres would have to take turns.

Reluctantly, I parted from her breasts. An even more succulent fruit awaited me, and I kissed my way down over that spare, flat stomach of hers, detouring to plant a kiss on each of her prominent hip bones before approaching her sexual core.

I had no idea how she had kept her hands away from her pussy thus far, but she had. I would probably have been wanking like crazy by now, but she just lay passively. She told me later that she just wanted to soak up my attention. To let all the pleasure come from me, and I could understand that when I thought about it.

I paused to appreciate the exquisite contours of her body. The subtle hollows each side of her abdomen, the peaks of her hips, and the plump little hump of her pubic mound, covered sparsely with hair that perfectly matched that on her head. A gorgeous golden bronze colour.

I dipped my head to kiss those golden pubes, then I nuzzled my nose down between her labia, teasing her open and inhaling the heady scent of her desire, before parting her petals with my thumbs to reveal her stunning, glistening pink in all its glory. She spread her legs wider.

She was so wet, and a little white rivulet, trickling down between her bum cheeks, told a story of aching arousal. I swallowed involuntarily with anticipation at the sight of her, then I planted a lingering sucky kiss on her clitoris, thrilling as I felt it twitch between my lips, a response that send a jolt to my own clit. Oh my God, I love this lesbian empathy.

I took my tongue on a trip to heaven, down between her plump arse cheeks, and lapped up her little stream, carrying the ambrosia up and spreading it all over her hot succulent folds, squishing her surprisingly firm inner lips, and teasing her tasty trickling entrance. It was fucking delish, and I felt my lust and desire surge. This was sexual heaven.

I lifted my head and gazed as I slipped the middle two fingers of my left hand into her. I loved watching them disappear into that rosy pink flesh, and feeling the hot wetness of her interior, and I curled them up to find her spot...

'Oh... no...' she gasped, and I paused and looked up at her.

'No... carry on... don't stop. I'm almost coming.'

I began writhing my fingers against her spongy little pad, and simultaneously covered her clit with my lips and sucked it in pulses, like one of those clit sucker toys does, but much, much more slowly..

'Ahhhhhhh fuuuuuck,' she suddenly cried out, and I felt a yet hotter stream bathe my hand as she came with a spurt.

I withdrew my fingers to tease her entrance, and I changed my tongue action to a rapid flicking just under the head of her clit, and I coaxed a second peak out of her.

'Ahhhh... ahhh... ahh... ah, ah, ah,' and a second hot little spurt dribbled into my hand.

She jerked with aftershocks, then gradually began to calm, and I withdrew my hand and looked at the opalescent pool of liquid filling my palm. Just too delicious to resist. I lapped up her orgasm, raveningly, then turned onto my back and got myself off again in seconds with a rapid-fire finger-fuck before she even opened her eyes.

'Oooooohhhhh ffffffffck...... '

I crawled up and lay next to her on my side with my right arm cuddling her and my left hand between our mouths so that we could hang onto the sublime sexual favours. We kissed, sharing more "sabor de sex," then just lay close, savouring a divine intimate aftermath.

Finally, she spoke. 'Oj herre Gud, Chloe... oh my God. That was.... just... fantastisk...' Her English was almost deserting her in her elation.

'It was. For me too, and I haven't been deprived like you have.'

'I've been keeping myself... you know... with my fingers and toys, but nothing compares with the intimacy of real sex with someone like you.'

I pondered for a minute. Trude was a very special lover. It didn't seem right that she was spending a lot of time deprived of sexual intimacy. I wondered, would I forgo sex with anyone else in favour of Trude? Apart from Licia, who would ALWAYS take precedence I decided I would.

I looked at her. 'You know Trude, if you want to repeat this, anytime, you just have to give me a sign. You can leave all the room arrangements to me. I'm a wiz at that.' I grinned.

She smiled. 'Really? Do you mean it?'

'Of course. This will be the sign...' I licked the length of my middle finger, lasciviously. 'EXCEPT when Licia is around.'

She looked pensive. 'Thank you, Chloe. You are lovely, but I know you have a girlfriend...'

'Yes, but we are both allowed to have a little fun.'

We lay a little longer, then we both got up to go to the bathroom. When we returned, she went to get into the other bed but I grabbed her hand. 'No you don't. Get in here with me. You wanted intimate, and intimate you are going to get.'

I spooned her, moulding myself to her slender form, then I reached out and clicked off the lamp. 'Let's get some sleep. It's a fucking big bastard of a day tomorrow.'